


this charming man

by dev0n



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Author applies headcanons liberally, Background Polyamory, Daddy Kink, M/M, Minor Nonbinary Character, Sexting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev0n/pseuds/dev0n
Summary: "This is your dad?" Peter asks. "Dude, he's hot.""Peter!"





	1. i just want to see the boy happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was meant to be pwp but i got 1,000 words in and they hadn't even met yet lmao. i have a habit of getting way more into detail than i originally intend to. ~~anyway, once it gets to that point, the rating will change.~~ there ~~will also eventually be~~ is daddy kink. consider yourselves warned. not to sound like a 2004 fanfiction.net user, but don't like, don't read.
> 
> so how do i even explain this? when i first got interested in x-men, azazel was my favorite. my main rp partner at the time ended up liking peter best. we have a habit of choosing our two favorite characters in a fandom and making it work; thus, this ship was born. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ i got in too deep and ended up loving it despite how cracky it is. azazel's personality is heavily influenced by my own headcanons and the comics, considering how little we saw of him in first class.
> 
> title from the smiths song of the same name; chapter title from the morrissey song of the same name.
> 
> i think that's about it. happy reading \m/

Kurt gets the call after morning classes on a sunny Wednesday afternoon.

Peter's not actively trying to listen in, but Kurt clearly isn't trying to keep the call private; he rarely bothers. Peter is his best friend, after all, and it's a bother for Kurt to to pull out his earbuds every time he uses his tablet; cell phones are too small for his fingers.

Kurt looks up to see who it is and accepts the call with a tap of his tail. "Hey, Raven," he greets his parent cheerfully, flipping a page in his textbook.

"Kurt," Raven replies in greeting. "How's school going?"

"Not bad. I don't have much work to do right now, but I'll probably be helping _someone_ —" Kurt tosses Peter an unimpressed look, in response to which Peter grins- "With his German later. What's up?"

"I... Just got a phone call," Raven begins hesitantly, slowly. For a second Peter panics and wonders if this has to do with that party last week, and judging by the expression on Kurt's face, he's wondering the same thing. But Raven continues: "It was your father."

Kurt makes a strangled noise and sits up straight in his desk chair. His tail starts to flicker side to side behind him, not unlike that of an anxious cat. "My...? You mean Azazel?" Now Peter sits up, suddenly losing interest in German grammar.

"Yes, Azazel." Raven's voice is tight. "He was released from prison last week. I'm guessing he cut a deal with the government. He _was_ the most powerful teleporter I ever met; I'm sure he was useful to them." They sigh. "I didn't want to tell you, but I discussed it with Irene and we decided you have the right to make your own decision."

"I-- I'm glad you did. I think. I would be upset later if I found out you hadn't." Kurt shuts his book and leans his elbows on his desk, holding his face in his hands. Blue though he is, Peter thinks he sees color drained from his face.

"That's what Irene said," Raven says dryly. "You're on Spring Break starting next week, aren't you?"

"Yes. Peter and I are leaving Friday."

"Azazel said he wants to meet you. But there are things you should know first- things I can't say on the phone." Kurt glances over to Peter, brow furrowed. His parents' involvement with a mutant extremist group before his birth is no secret to either of them; after all, Peter's own father had been their leader.

"Alright. I... I'll see you then, I suppose." Kurt sighs. "Tell mom I said hi."

"Tell Peter I said hi," Raven replies. "Scratch that. He's been listening, hasn't he?"

"Yep," Peter responds, suddenly right at Kurt's side and giving him no time to make up a lie (he's a terrible liar anyway.) Kurt scoffs.

"Of course. Do me a solid and don't tell your parents yet, alright? I'm going to call Charles later. You know he'll act all hurt if he doesn't hear it directly from me."

"Alright, but you owe me," Peter replies, heaving a sigh as though the request is a huge burden. Kurt gives him another unimpressed look. Peter just grins again.

"Whatever you say," Raven snorts. "Alright, boys. I'll see you next week. I love you."

"I love you too," Kurt replies. "Let me know if he calls again, okay?"

"Of course. Tschüss."

"Tschüss." The tablet beeps as Raven ends the call. Kurt groans and lays his head on his desk. Peter lets out a long, low whistle, patting Kurt on the shoulder.

"Shit, dude."

"Shit," Kurt agrees, not lifting his head. (Peter fights the urge to smile, as Kurt very rarely swears.) "He's... I mean..." Kurt gives up and goes quiet. Peter is suddenly uncomfortable; emotions aren't his strong suit. But there are a few people he'll try for, and Kurt is one of them.

"Hey, at least you know the shit he went to prison for is the same shit your mom and Raven did," Peter tries. "And my dad." Peter pauses. Kurt says nothing. "... Is this not helping?"

"Not really, no," Kurt replies, but Peter's pretty sure he's smiling a little, so he'll count that as a win. "Mom and Raven never told me much about him, you know? I think they would have if I'd asked, but I never did. I don't know." Kurt finally sits up. He finally seems to notice the subconscious anxious movement of his tail; it goes still and coils around the arm of his chair instead.

"I think he called a few times when I was little. I heard Raven telling him not to call back. I thought about visiting him a few times, but..." Kurt shrugs. "He was never my father to me, you know? Maybe I would have eventually, but it was never that important to me. But maybe I should have made an effort..."

"Hey," Peter interrupts the impending spiral into self-doubt and guilt. "He can't hold it against you, right? I mean... If Charles hadn't, uh... You know, pulled strings, Erik and Irene and Raven would probably all be in prison, too." Charles had felt too guilty to abuse his abilities again to liberate any of the others, but Peter suspected he felt just as guilty for _not_ doing it.

"But that's just the thing. They're all good people. What if Azazel is? Maybe he would have been there when I grew up if he hadn't been in prison. Maybe Raven just doesn't like him because of something personal."

Peter shrugs. "You can't know, dude. You just gotta wait 'til Raven spills the whole story and decide for yourself. You don't owe the guy shit just because he knocked them up."

Kurt wrinkles his nose at the tasteless phrasing, but concedes Peter's point. "I guess you're right," he says reluctantly, rubbing a hand over his face. "I need something to take my mind off of it, I think. I could call Ororo and Jubi, but..."

"You'd have a lot to explain, and a lot you couldn't," Peter finishes for him, and Kurt nods.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the TV and the Playstation 4 turn on; there's a controller in Peter's hands and one in Kurt's. Kurt's used to Peter's casual abuse of his mutation by now and only seems a little thrown off; once he processes what just happened, he rolls his eyes. Peter, of course, only smirks in his usual self-satisfied manner.

"Overwatch?" Peter asks, though he's already loading the game.

"Overwatch," Kurt nods.


	2. hope in his pale eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise azazel will actually be in the next chapter lmao
> 
> chapter title from the song i just want to see the boy happy by morrissey

Kurt shows up at Peter's house unannounced on Saturday night. He teleports directly into Peter's bedroom, in fact, which Peter really ought to be used to by now, but still isn't.

"Fuck, Kurt, Jesus! What happened to knocking?" Peter curses. "What if I was jerkin' it again? You couldn't look me in the face for days after last time."

"Sorry," Kurt replies half-heartedly, and the fact that he doesn't seem remotely flustered catches Peter's attention. Observing him more closely now, Peter takes in Kurt's slumped shoulders, his flat expression, and the way his tail curls behind him, almost limp.

Peter lets it go and sits up, patting the bed beside him. "It's cool. It's not like i was doing anything important, anyway. What's up?"

"We talked about Azazel."

Ah. That explains a lot. "Ooh. And?"

Kurt sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "So... I guess he and Raven had a drunken one-night stand or something about a month before he got caught. When Raven found out they were pregnant, they decided to go to Charles for help. Mom went with them." He shrugged. "From what Raven and Mom said, Azazel wasn't really a bad guy. They were just afraid to talk to him at first because your dad wasn't sure how clean he'd wiped their slates, you know? And then he stopped calling."

"Didn't they ever try to check on him later?" Peter questions.

"They had no idea how to contact him later on; they didn't even know where he was. And since I never asked, they never risked trying to find him." Kurt lays back on Peter's bed, looking up at the ceiling. Peter joins him.

"So... That's it? No big dark secrets?"

"Not really. I mean... They never knew much about where he came from? He didn't talk about it. But when they first met, he barely spoke English. Mostly just Russian. And I guess he was kind of, uh. Promiscuous." Kurt grimaces; clearly, that's not something he wants to think about. "And Raven mentioned he was a little more ruthless than the rest of them. But he looks, you know, a lot like me. So he probably had a harder life than the rest of them."

They lapse into a comfortable silence for a minute or two. Then Kurt reaches into his pocket with his tail, retrieving what appears to be an age-faded Polaroid.

"What's that?" Peter asks. Kurt passes it to him wordlessly.

The photograph is of a group of people sitting around a campfire. Peter recognizes Raven immediately, wearing one of their most common female guises; there's a man with long hair who he doesn't know sitting beside her, and a blonde woman beside him. But the man in the center of the photograph is, of course, the one who catches his attention. It's hard for him not to; he definitely stands out.

"This is your dad?" Peter asks, studying the man's face. He has bright red skin, slicked-back black hair, and a short beard. His eyes are a brighter gold than Kurt's, and the smirk on his face does funny things to Peter's insides. Damn. "Dude, he's hot."

_"Peter!"_ Kurt hisses, snatching back the photograph with a scowl and returning it safely to his pocket.

Peter snickers, sitting up on his elbow and patting Kurt's arm. "What can I say? I like the bad boys," he says cheerfully. "Besides, he looks like you. Take it as a compliment."

"Ugh, shut up." Kurt smacks away Peter's hand with his tail and sits up. "Do you think I should call him? Set up a time to meet him, or whatever?"

Peter shrugs, flitting across the room to grab a bag of chips from his desk and then lounging back against his pillows. "Sure, dude. What's the worst that could happen? If he's an asshole, it's not like you ever have to see him again."

"I suppose," Kurt says, looking at Peter thoughtfully. "Will you come with me?"

"What, to meet your dad?"

"Yes! Like, if I set up a place and a time to meet him, maybe you could talk to him first, you know? Get a feel for his personality. I'll pretend to get there a little late. He doesn't have to know we're friends."

Peter laughs through his mouthful of Doritos, swallowing before he responds. "Seriously? What is this, a 90s movie?" he teases.

Kurt huffs. "I'm serious! Please?"

And damn it, Peter can never resist Kurt's requests. He looks like an excited puppy. Besides, Peter reasons, it might be kind of fun.

"... Yeah. Yeah, alright, fine," Peter sighs. "But if it goes wrong, don't blame me."

Kurt grins and lurches forward to hug Peter. The chip bag crunches between them. Peter makes an 'oof' noise, but laughs and returns the embrace.

"You're lucky you're like my brother, man. I wouldn't do this for just anyone," Peter says, but that's probably a lie. He loves doing risky, stupid things. "Alright, c'mon, you're crushing the Doritos. You gonna stay the night?"

Kurt pulls back, still smiling. "Probably not tonight, but I can stay a while," he responds.

Peter hums in acknowledgement. There's a very slight gust of wind, and then he has his computer on his lap. "Netflix and chill?" He winks.

Kurt rolls his eyes and settles back against Peter's pillows. "You're not my type," he says dryly. "And I don't think my partners would be too happy with that. Netflix, though, yes."

"Aw, baby, don't be like that," Peter croons, settling in beside Kurt and scrolling through his watch list. "But fine. That just leaves more of me for your hot dad."

"You're disgusting," Kurt whines, smacking Peter with his tail. "Jeez. Shut up and put something on."

Peter fake gasps. "You're a syllable away from blasphemy there, Kurt," he mock-reprimands. Kurt smacks him again, and Peter laughs. "Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist."

They make it through two episodes of Supergirl before Kurt falls asleep.


	3. everything depends upon how near you stand to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploading this one from mobile & still unbeta'd, so i apologize for any inevitable mistakes.
> 
> thanks so much to everyone who's given kudos or commented; i honestly didn't expect this fic to get any hits at all, so it's really encouraging and i appreciate it a ton!
> 
> chapter title from the song hand in glove by the smiths.
> 
> edit: uhhh, i didn't realize i'd already posted this. uploaded the revised version, which probably isn't much different. i also fixed the stupid formatting problem. happy reading!

"This is stupid," Peter sighs and shakes his head. He and Kurt are sitting in the car across the street from the coffee shop where Kurt is supposed to meet Azazel in roughly ten minutes. The plan sounded fun at first, but now Peter isn't so sure. "What am I even supposed to say when I see him?"

"I don't know," Kurt shrugs. "You're an extrovert, you'll think of something. Come on, you've already made it this far. Please? I'm really nervous."

"Well, you talked to him on the phone. What did he sound like?"

"I don't know! He had a Russian accent. A deep voice. We didn't really talk long enough for me to gauge his personality-"

_Bamf!_

The noise is barely audible from where they're parked, but Kurt and Peter both turn their heads in the direction of the sound immediately. They both know it well; it's the exact same sound emitted when Kurt teleports.

Peter swears he sees Kurt's face go a paler shade of blue as he stares across the street. A man with red skin stands in a cloud of quickly-dissipating, wispy red smoke. The people immediately around him back away and stare. The man gives them a cursory glance, then heads down the street and into the cafe. He catches the door with a prehensile tail before it closes behind another patron and disappears inside.

"Should I-" Peter begins.

_"Ja! Spricht mit er. Alles ist gut. Ich... Brauche eine Minute allein."_

Peter casts Kurt an uncertain look. He only involuntarily slips into German when he’s too distressed to think properly in English. Kurt makes a shooing motion, and Peter reluctantly gets out of the car.

Peter takes a deep breath and nods once. "Alright, Peter. You got this," he mumbles to himself, then he pulls his glasses down over his eyes and starts down the street.

Time all but stops around him; he needs a minute to figure out what he's even going to say. But by the time Peter reaches the cafe door, he still has no idea how he's going to start a conversation that will be enough to capture Azazel’s attention, let alone capture his personality.

Peter opens the door and steps inside. _Here goes nothing._

Time starts again.

"Oh, whoa!" As he does more often than he'd like to admit, Peter doesn't accurately predict what will happen when he slows down again. As a result, he's very nearly smacked in the face by the tail of the person in front of him.

Wait.

_Tail?_

Shit.

"Sorry, man," Peter laughs self-consciously as the man turns around to face him, brow furrowed. Peter takes a step back and pushes his glasses up onto his head, looking up _(so that's where Kurt got his height)_ and giving the stranger- or rather, Azazel- a sheepish grin.

Azazel's look of confusion gives way to amusement and a soft smirk. He shakes his head and with a fairly heavy Slavic accent Peter can only assume is Russian he replies, "No problem."

Azazel doesn't look like he's aged a day since the photograph Kurt showed Peter, but that's not really surprising; most mutants with physical mutations age at a slower rate. He has a few facial scars that he hadn't had in the photograph and he's a bit more muscular, but those are just about the only changes Peter can see. Azazel is also surprisingly well dressed for a man who just got out of prison two weeks ago. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to reveal muscular forearms; his tie, amusingly enough, is the exact same shade of red as his skin.

Peter finds himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied. The only thought his brain seems able to form right now is _'oh no, he's hot.'_

Azazel honest-to-God looks Peter up and down. "You are a mutant?" he asks.

"What? Oh, uh, yeah." Peter clears his throat. His mouth is dry. "How'd you know?"

"You were not standing there a second ago. I would have noticed. You are very... Shiny."

"Oh... Yeah." Peter laughs and scratches at the back of his neck. Azazel's not wrong. It's kind of hard to miss an outfit comprised almost entirely of metallic silver fabric. "I have, uh, super speed. And cool hair."

Azazel's gaze flickers to Peter's hair. "Very cool hair,” he agrees with a soft smile.

"Thanks.” Peter grins. He starts to recover from the momentary brain freeze, though he's still internally panicking. What the hell is he supposed to say to Kurt's _dad?_ Kurt's _hot_ dad?

Guess he'll have to wing it.

"So I don't think I've seen you here before," Peter says conversationally, starting toward the counter and hoping Azazel follows. He does, eyes scanning the rest of the cafe before returning to Peter. Probably looking for Kurt, Peter decides.

"No," Azazel acknowledges, standing beside him and looking up at the menu. "I am from... Not around here. I am meeting someone."

"Yeah? You got a hot date?" Peter teases, though of course he already knows the answer.

Azazel chuckles. "Unfortunately not," he replies, then pauses. He meets Peter's eyes briefly, lips quirking up at the edges. "Or perhaps not so unfortunately."

_Oh._

That's when Peter realizes he's in _way_ over his head. He lets out a short, flustered laugh and looks down. He's definitely blushing, but c'mon- who wouldn't be?

The woman at the counter moves aside and Azazel steps up to take her place. The barista is clearly trying not to stare as she asks for Azazel's order.

Azazel seems unperturbed as he replies, "Large coffee. Three sugar." He glances back to Peter as he takes out his wallet, eyes twinkling with amusement. "And whatever he orders."

"Oh. You don't have to..." Peter trails off. He doesn't think he's ever been this flustered in his entire _life._ What the hell? "Just, uh, small vanilla latte?" Peter doesn't really do coffee, but he's caught off guard and it's the first thing he sees when he glances back up to the menu.

The barista enters their orders and takes Azazel's name. He pays for both drinks, then steps off to the side to wait. Peter follows.

"Thank you," he says a little shyly, finding himself not quite able to meet Azazel's eyes.

"Anytime," Azazel replies, still looking incredibly amused. "You never gave me your name, you know."

"Oh, shit, didn't I?" Peter laughs. "I'm Peter. You’re, uh, Azazel, right? That's what you told the barista."

Azazel nods slightly. "Yes. Do you live around here?”

“Sort of? My dads do. I’m visiting on spring break, but I go to school in Manhattan.” Peter shrugs.

“Is that so? I just got an apartment in Manhattan, actually.” _Interesting._ Peter has to wonder if it’s really just a coincidence.

Their coffee is brought to the counter; Azazel glances at his watch.

“I do not mean to cut this short, but I think my son will be arriving soon,” he says, sounding sincerely apologetic.

It’s a little jarring to hear him mention his son; Peter’s almost forgotten this is Kurt’s father. He suddenly feels a little guilty. But only a little. Azazel started it, after all. And anyway, it's not like it will lead anywhere-

“Would it be too bold to ask for your number, Peter?”

Shit.

“Yes. Uh, I mean, no? I mean, yes, I’m totally down with giving you my number,” Peter stutters out. He dashes off to find a pen and write down his name and number on a napkin, then brings it back to Azazel before the older man even has the chance to notice his absence.

“Here you go. Text me anytime, yeah? Maybe we can hang out once we're both back in Manhattan,” Peter grins, ignoring the little voice in his head that's shouting at him: _Oh my God, what are you doing?! This is Kurt’s dad! You're a terrible best friend!_

But the smile Azazel gives him all but erases his internal panic.

“I look forward to it,” Azazel says, and Peter just stares like a starstruck idiot for a second before remembering he should probably leave.

“Oh! Yeah. Uh, me too. See you around, I hope.”

Peter pulls his glasses down over his eyes, and he's gone before Azazel has a chance to say anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my german isn't great, but kurt's line SHOULD translate roughly to:
> 
> _"yes! everything is fine. talk to him. i need a minute alone."_


	4. i would like to give you what i think you're asking for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and here begins the porn. mind the tags.
> 
> again, thank you so much for all the comments! i'm too shy to respond to everyone individually, but i appreciate the encouragement immensely. it's really awesome to see that other people actually enjoy & care about my weird crack ship.
> 
> chapter title from the song handsome devil by the smiths.

Peter is so on edge for the rest of the day that Charles takes him aside after dinner and quietly asks if he's alright. Peter appreciates that Charles respects his privacy enough not to just dig for an answer in his head; he doesn't want anybody to know about this, _especially_ not his parents. Charles is so kind about it that Peter feels guilty, so he tells him a condensed part of the truth: that he's waiting for a boy to text him. Charles laughs and pats Peter on the shoulder.

"He'll text," Charles assures him. "If he doesn't, he's not worth your time. But I do hope he is."

"Yeah." Peter lets out a short, slightly strained laugh. "Yeah, so do I. Thanks, Dad." He heads up the stairs so fast that they don't even creak.

Peter tries to play video games for approximately ten minutes before giving up, unable to focus. He's too jittery and wound up. He sits on his bed for a few moments, practically vibrating with nervous energy. Finally, he gets up to grab the little silver pouch tucked away deep in his suitcase, then slips out the window and onto the roof.

Charles definitely knows Peter smokes, but he's pretty sure Erik doesn't. The former had brought it up to him once in high school, but after Peter explained how it made both his ADHD and his mutation more manageable, Charles had reluctantly agreed to keep it a secret.

Peter sits just outside his window on the flat part of the roof. He plugs in his earbuds, trying to relax as he packs the pipe, lights it, and takes the first hit...

_Ping!_

... But all thoughts of relaxation fly out the metaphorical window when his phone's text tone goes off.

Peter reminds himself that it very well might not be Azazel. He does have other friends, after all. He forces himself to take a deep breath, then very hurriedly unlocks his phone to open the text message.

 **(xxx)-xxx-xxxx** : Hello, this is Azazel.

Peter's breath catches in his throat. He quickly saves the number into his contacts, then pauses with his thumbs over the keyboard as he tries to come up with something clever to say. Eventually, he just responds:

 **Me** : hey!! what's up?

He takes another hit from his pipe to distract himself, but quickly sets it aside again when he hears his phone go off again.

 **Azazel** : I just reached my new apartment. And you?

Peter grins and bites his lip, laying back against the roof. He resolves not to think too hard about how he replies; 'be yourself' may be cheesy advice, but that doesn't mean it's not good.

 **Me** : laying on the roof. listening to pink floyd. smoking, shh don't tell

 **Azazel** : I am not shocked. You look the type.

Peter laughs under his breath. He's steadfastly ignoring the little part of his brain that's trying to remind him who this is. _Nobody special, just some hot dude that I met. So what if he's older than me and looks a little bit like Satan?_

 **Me** : yeah i guess i kinda do. glad you're cool with it  
**Me** : off topic but how old are you?

Considering even Raven didn't know the answer to that question, Peter is pretty curious- though he supposes Azazel might lie. Azazel takes a bit longer to reply this time. Peter takes another hit while he waits, hoping it wasn't taken as a rude question.

 **Azazel** : How old do you think?

 **Me** : is that a trick question?  
**Me** : i know a lot of mutants. the ones with strong physical mutations like yours are usually way older than they look. i'm gonna guess... 65?

 **Azazel** : You flatter me. Older.

Peter raises his eyebrows. He knows Raven is 52 years old, but they still look like they're in their early twenties. There's no exact science to gauging exactly how a mutant is going to age, but Azazel doesn't look much older than his early thirties.

 **Me** : no shit?? uhh... 80? 100??

Azazel takes a while to reply again. Peter's burning with curiosity.

 **Azazel** : Older.

Peter's jaw actually drops. "No way," he whispers.

 **Me** : NO way. dude how old are you

 **Azazel** : I tell you more just now than I tell most people. Maybe someday I will tell you the number. Does it bother you?

Peter huffs. What a tease. But he supposes that's fair; he's gotten more out of Azazel in the past fifteen minutes than the Brotherhood got in several years. The thought makes Peter pause, suddenly feeling a little guilty for not telling Azazel who he is. He shrugs it off and replies to the text.

 **Me** : teeease. but fine, i'll drop it. and nah it doesn't bother me. guess you're lucky i like older guys ;) i just turned 21

 **Azazel** : I am lucky. And also very lucky that such an attractive mutant who likes older men nearly ran into me at a coffee shop.

Peter has had enough experience to know what he likes. Sex with any gender is pretty awesome, but he's partial to men. The oldest he's ever been with was about seven years older than him, though-- nowhere near Azazel's age. Peter can't believe that someone like Azazel, whose reputation precedes him, is actually _interested_ in him. The thought is both exciting and, admittedly, a little terrifying. Azazel was just released from prison, after all. But at least Peter knows his imprisonment was for a good cause.

He decides to take the leap and see just how interested Azazel is.

 **Me** : i really hope you were serious about meeting up once i'm back in manhattan

 **Azazel** : Why is that?

Peter bites his lip. He gathers his things and climbs back through the window into his bedroom. After putting away his stash and locking the door, Peter flops down onto his bed. The strange nervous energy is still there, but it's softened a little, at least. He can do this. He's sexted plenty of people before. Why should he be any more nervous about sexting Azazel?

 **Me** : you just got a new apartment. i bet the bed needs breaking in

Peter holds his breath while he waits for a response, fidgeting. He really hopes Azazel will play along; he's already starting to feel the slow heat of arousal curl low in his belly.

 **Azazel** : I suppose it does.

 **Me** : think you could keep up with me? i have a pretty amazing recovery time. super speed and all

 **Azazel** : That sounds like a challenge. I think I could. And I have an advantage also. I can do many things with my tail.

Peter feels his cock twitch. He raises his knees and presses his thighs together, biting his lip. Admittedly, he's wondered once or twice what Kurt could do with his tail. He's even asked him about it before, but Kurt is always too embarrassed to talk about anything concerning sex. It's always been completely innocent curiosity, of course; Kurt's like his brother.

Azazel, on the other hand... Peter's interest in _his_ tail is decidedly far from innocent. There are so many possibilities. He shifts and squeezes his thighs together again, letting out a soft sigh as he imagines Azazel's tail curled around his cock, his throat, his wrists, pinning him to the bed...

 **Me** : maybe it is ;)  
**Me** : what are you doing right now?

 **Azazel** : I am in bed.

 **Me** : thinking about me i hope

 **Azazel** : I am. I am thinking about all the ways we could consecrate the bed. And the entire apartment.

The thought of Azazel bending him over the kitchen counter or the bathroom sink makes Peter whine softly in the back of his throat. He palms at his dick through the thin fabric of his pajamas.

 **Me** : are you hard?

 **Azazel** : Yes. Are you?

 **Me** : yeah  
**Me** : can i see?

Peter doesn't get a response for a couple minutes. Impatient, he takes that time to finally push down his pajamas. He wraps a hand around his cock, giving himself slow strokes and allowing his imagination to wander until his phone finally pings with a message.

 **Azazel** : [ **IMAGE ATTACHMENT]**  
**Azazel** : I hope you will return the favor.

Peter thinks his mouth is honest-to-god watering. Azazel's cock is _pornstar_ huge. In the picture, he has his hand wrapped around the base. It curves slightly upwards, and the tip is flushed a slightly darker red than the rest of his skin. Peter bites his lip and strokes his own cock a couple more times, then pulls open his camera.

It takes Peter a couple minutes to get a shot he's satisfied with. It's basically the same angle as Azazel's own photo, though Peter's cock is average-sized.

 **Me** : [ **IMAGE ATTACHMENT]**  
**Me** : not quite as impressive as yours unfortunately

 **Azazel** : Still impressive. Collars and cuffs.

Peter pauses, brow furrowed. He's a little distracted at the moment, but he allows his curiosity to get the better of him and Googles the phrase. When he reads the definition, he lets out a little snort, smiling in spite of himself.

 **Me** : shut up  
**Me** : i want to suck you off

Peter flushes as he types the words. He wonders if Azazel has ever done this before, then remembers that he's been in prison for over two decades. Yeah. Probably not. He's quite good at using a cell phone for somebody that's never even seen one, though, isn't he?

The tangent Peter's thoughts have gone off on is interrupted by his phone going off again.

Right. Sexting. Peter strokes his cock lazily, pulling open the message.

 **Azazel** : Wouldn't it be you shutting up then?  
**Azazel** : You have a very pretty mouth. Do you like your hair pulled?

 **Me** : fuck yeah. you're so big i'll probably gag at first but once i get used to it i'll let you fuck my mouth  
**Me** : you can pull my hair as hard as you want. force me to take your entire cock down my throat

Peter's breathing is a little labored. He picks up the pace as he continues to stroke his dick, imagining what it'd be like to have Azazel's thick cock fill his mouth, his throat. Azazel's big hands twisted into his hair, forcing his head down and back up however he wanted.

 **Azazel** : If you are good, I will use my tail to jerk you off while I fuck your mouth. Once I am done with it, I will let go and instruct you to get up and get on hands and knees on the bed.  
**Azazel** : You will listen, yes? You will be good for Daddy?

Peter makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, hand tightening around the base of his cock. Oh. _Oh._ The honorific is one he's always been too embarrassed to consider using, even with the older guys he's fucked. It seems almost _too_ dirty, and yet it's one of his favorite things to jerk off to when he watches porn. It's undeniably a turn-on. Not necessarily the thought of someone being a father figure, no; but the title itself, the power exchange it implies? _Hell yes._

 **Me** : whatever you want, daddy

 **Azazel** : Good boy. I might tease for a few minutes. Touch you everywhere, except for where you are waiting for me to touch. I want to make you beg.

 **Me** : i will. i'll stay on my hands and knees like you told me, but i'll beg you to touch my cock, or at least let me touch myself. i need something, daddy, anything, please. finger me open so you can fuck me

Peter lets go of his dick to make the fantasy seem more real. He's practically aching with arousal, but he resists the urge and waits for Azazel's reply.

 **Azazel** : I will make you beg a little while longer until I am satisfied. Now you may touch yourself. Slowly. Do you want me to be gentle, or rough?

Peter lets out a sigh of relief and wraps his hand around his cock again, but he keeps the strokes slow, just as he's told.

 **Me** : rough please

 **Azazel** : Whatever my baby boy wants. I will start to fuck your ass with my fingers. I will move carefully but hard and fast. I must stretch you very well for my cock to fit. I will keep doing this until you are begging for me to fuck you.

Peter has to wonder how Azazel is still typing so well. Maybe he's jerking off with his tail to keep his hands free?

 **Me** : please fuck me daddy i'm ready  
**Me** : i want to feel you inside me, i want to make you cum

 **Azazel** : Okay. You are being such a good boy for Daddy, Peter. I am tired of waiting, too. I will hold onto your hips tightly. My tail will wrap around your throat. It will not choke, just stay there. I will start to push in very carefully. You will need time for adjusting to the size.

Peter whimpers. The power Azazel would have over him in this fantasy is a little scary, but mostly it's just incredibly hot. Peter starts to stroke himself a little faster, imaging the slow burn and stretch as Azazel pushes into him; imagining Azazel's tail wrapped around his throat, the knowledge that it could tighten at any moment if Azazel wills it to.

 **Me** : i'll be nice and still while you push in. after a few seconds i'll get impatient and start to rock my hips back against you. i'll start to beg again  
**Me** : please fuck me daddy i need you

 **Azazel** : I will stay still a few more moments, rubbing your sides and your hips. But finally I will give in and start to thrust. It will be a little slow at first so you are used to it. Then deeper. A little faster. You are being a very good boy for Daddy. You are taking my cock so well. Does it feel good?

 **Me** : yes daddy it's so good please, harder faster pull my hair

Peter's grammar is failing as he spits into his palm and jerks his cock faster. He doesn't think he's ever gotten this turned on just from _sexting._ He's aware that he's giving very little, mostly just making Azazel do the work, and he feels a little bad. Peter makes himself a promise that he'll certainly make it up to him once they meet in person.

 **Azazel** : Are you close, baby boy? I am. I will pull your hair just as you say and thrust faster and harder. I will not hold back any more. My tail will tighten just slightly around your throat. It will cut off the blood flow just a little bit. I will use one hand and finally jerk your cock. Will you cum for me?

 **Me** : yes daddy fuck

Peter doesn't have the brainpower to type anymore; his mind is overwhelmed with arousal and fantasy. He drops his phone onto the bed, head spinning with all the things he wants to do to Azazel, all the things he wants Azazel to do to him. He bites his knuckles to muffle the whine that wants to slip through his lips as he climaxes, cum spilling over his hand and dripping down his cock. He moves his hand away from his mouth after a couple seconds and pants, running his clean hand through his hair.

"Jesus Christ," Peter breathes.

Peter gives himself a few more moments to recover before he gets up to grab a handful of Kleenex from his desk, wiping up his mess and tossing the tissues into the wastebasket. He pulls his PJ pants back up and sits on his bed again, grabbing that phone.

 **Me** : i can't remember the last time i came so hard holy fuck  
**Me** : you came right??

 **Azazel** : [ **IMAGE ATTACHMENT]**

Holy shit. Just as Peter had suspected, Azazel has his tail coiled around his dick. It hasn't gone soft yet, and there's cum dripping down the sides and down his tail. Peter feels his arousal start to stir again. He hadn't been lying to Azazel-- he has a remarkably fast recovery time. He'll probably end up jerking off at least twice more before he can actually fall asleep.

 **Me** : wish i could lick it clean ;)  
**Me** : i'd send one back but i already cleaned up

 **Azazel** : It is no matter. I will see it in person soon enough, I hope.  
**Azazel** : I have never done that before.  
**Azazel** : I mean on the phone. I hope it was good.

 **Me** : oh fuck yeah. surprised me a couple times but i was definitely 110% down with the daddy thing. and the choking thing. and everything. fuck.

 **Azazel:** I am glad. A few things slipped out in the heat of the moment that I was a little bit worried for.  
**Azazel:** Unfortunately I must sleep now. I work in the morning. I hope I will hear from you soon?

 **Me:** of course :) text me whenever you're not busy or something. i'm on break so i probably won't be busy much  
**Me:** i can't wait to see you in person. i'm heading back to manhattan next week

 **Azazel:** I wait with bated breath. Goodnight, Peter.

 **Me:** goodnight, daddy ;)


	5. please keep me in mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops. i've had this typed up for a while, i just never read over & published it.
> 
> i barely looked this one over. it's probably definitely gonna be another long while before i get out another chapter. sorry, guys. i have 0 attention span.
> 
> title from the song well i wonder by the smiths.

Peter sexts with Azazel three more times and has phone sex with him once over the course of the week while he's at Westchester.

He spends most of his time with his family, though. Kurt doesn't talk about Azazel much for a few days, presumably because he's still trying to work everything out. Once he does start to open up again, however, Peter starts to realize just how serious of a predicament he's put himself in.

Because-- Azazel is Kurt's _dad._ While Kurt has been struggling with the idea of reconnecting with his father, Peter has been sending Azazel dick pics and describing all the ways in which he'd like to get fucked by him. It makes his stomach churn uncomfortably every time Kurt mentions Azazel; he feels so goddamn _guilty._

Not to mention that he's lying to Azazel by omission, too. Azazel has no idea that Peter is his son's best friend. He might feel differently about this whole... _Thing_ they have if he knew. The more Peter thinks about it, the more he realizes just how badly he's fucked up, and he has no idea how to fix it.

The day before they're meant to head back to Manhattan, Charles seems to have picked up on Peter's mood. Charles does that sometimes; even when he isn't intentionally listening, he can pick up vague impressions of their thoughts or moods.

"Boy trouble?" Charles guesses as he enters the kitchen, making a beeline toward the cupboard in which Peter is convinced he keeps approximately five thousand different kinds of tea. They're alone; Peter doesn't sleep well, so a lot of the time he's up pretty early, and Charles is just naturally an early riser.

Peter tenses at the question, and Charles glances over his shoulder as he sets his fancy coffee maker to fill his mug with hot water. "You don't have to talk about it. But you know I'll listen, if you'd like to."

Peter sighs and runs his hands through his hair, looking forlornly at his cell phone. "You'll judge me. So hard. I fucked up, Dad."

Charles scoffs, turning to face Peter and leaning against the counter. "I'm hardly a judgmental person, Peter. I know a lot of the things you get up to. What is it now?"

Peter shakes his head, avoiding Charles' searching gaze. He knows his father would never violate his privacy unless he absolutely had to, and he trusts him not to. But Peter can't help being a little wary, sometimes.

"I know you're not. But this is _bad._ I don't--" Peter cuts off, eyes filling with frustrated tears, which only serves to frustrate him more.

"Peter, what on Earth is going on?" Charles asks, alarmed, and pulls up a chair so he can sit beside Peter. He brushes his son's hair back from his face, brow furrowed with concern. "Please talk to me. There must be something I can do to help, even if it's just listening. I swear I won't judge you."

Peter takes a deep breath, counts to ten, and lets it out. ADHD combined with a superspeed mutation sometimes makes his thoughts run much, much too fast for even him to catch up. He wipes the tears from his face with his sleeve, steadfastly ignoring Charles' gaze.

"So, you know there's a guy I've been talking to," Peter begins, and Charles nods. "I never told you anything about him, though. He's... Older."

"How much older?" Charles asks. Peter snorts.

"I don't know. He's a mutant. Uh, his mutation is physical." Charles nods in understanding. He's studied the correlation between age and physical mutations for a long time, after all. "So... This older guy. He's... There's not really any way to beat around the bush with this one, is there? Gotta just... Rip off the bandaid. Spit it out." Peter's leg is bouncing under the table as he picks at the skin around his nails.

Charles reaches out to gently touch Peter's knee. Peter stops bouncing his leg and finally looks over to meet Charles' eyes, his own wide and anxious.

"Peter, who is he?" Charles asks, now resting his hand on Peter's arm. But it only stays there for half a second, because suddenly Peter is gone, pacing the kitchen at a speed just barely slow enough for Charles to make out his form.

"Azazel," Peter finally spits out, speaking so quickly that Charles can hardly understand him. "Kurt's dad, Dad's old Brotherhood friend, looks like Satan. Y'know. That Azazel. He's, he's-- I can _explain,_ Dad, I swear. Please let me explain. Please don't be pissed. Or super weirded out." Peter stops suddenly in the middle of the kitchen, looking at his father with a miserable and desperate expression.

"Oh, Peter," Charles sighs after a moment, getting up again to fetch his tea. He pats his son's shoulder reassuringly as he passes by. "I'm not upset, dear. I just... Need a moment."

Charles makes a second cup of tea, into which he puts a liberal amount of sugar before pressing it gently into Peter's hands. "Let's go sit outside, yeah? It's beautiful today."

They sit at the patio table outside the kitchen, sitting in silence for a few moments. Charles seems perfectly at ease, though deep in thought. Peter fidgets, uncomfortable, and reluctantly sips his tea in lieu of pacing like he wants to. When Charles finally speaks, Peter flinches in surprise.

"I can't criticize your choice too harshly, as far as character goes. For one-- well, look at who I'm married to," Charles laughs. "The few times I met Azazel, he was quiet. But he was polite and respectful. And fiercely loyal to your father. We discussed it briefly when Raven mentioned he may be coming around again. Erik actually reached out to him and asked if he needed any assistance. He was released from prison with nothing to his name, after all. But it seems Emma Frost got to him first. She was another Brotherhood member. A telepath, with the unique ability to turn her entire body into diamond. A beautiful, formidable woman. But I digress."

Charles glances over to Peter, who is sitting in silence as he listens. Erik rarely speaks of his time with the Brotherhood, or of the people who followed him, so he wants to absorb all the information he can.

"Let's put the more obvious issues aside for a moment. Peter, how serious is this relationship you have with Azazel?"

"Relationship?" Peter looks up and shakes his head. "It's- it's not. I don't think. We only met once. Otherwise, we just text. We've talked on the phone a few times. It started out as just, uh." He grimaces. "Sex stuff. And that's still most of it. I mean, he's really nice, but... I couldn't think of anything serious with him, Dad. I mean. Kurt, you know?"

Charles just hums, frustratingly impassive. "How did you meet?" he asks next, and Peter recounts the tale of Kurt's plan and their coffee shop meeting; how Azazel had initiated the flirting, and how Peter had been too surprised to rebuff his advances- or want to rebuff them, for that matter.

"Peter, I'm going to be very plain with you," Charles says gently. He doesn't like to tiptoe too much around delicate subjects like this. Peter appreciates it, because otherwise he feels patronized. "You need to tell both of them. They will likely both be upset. But those are the consequences of your actions, and you will have to deal with them eventually. Even if Kurt never found out, Azazel will. He's a part of Kurt's life now."

Peter takes another sip of his tea, avoiding Charles' eyes. He knows everything Charles is saying is right, but that doesn't mean it's easy to hear.

"Talk to Azazel first. Whether or not you tell Kurt is your own choice, but morally, I think you know the right thing to do."

Peter sighs and nods, tracing his fingertip around the rim of his mug. "I really fucked up, Dad."

Charles lets out a short laugh, reaching across the table to pat Peter's arm. "You know, that's the very first thing Erik said to me when he first showed up on my doorstep again. Sometimes good things come from fucking up, Peter." He gives his son a warm smile. Charles' smiles are infectious, and Peter can't help returning it.

The noises of someone in the kitchen startles Peter, and he turns to look through the sliding door. Erik is standing at the coffee machine, bleary-eyed and grumpy. Charles follows Peter's gaze and smiles, getting to his feet.

"Don't worry - you'll figure it out," Charles assures. He squeezes Peter's shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen.

"Thanks, Dad." Peter sighs. He decides to stay where he is, contemplating the sunrise ─ and just how badly he's fucked up his life.


End file.
